


Shore Leave

by esme_green



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-04
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esme_green/pseuds/esme_green
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>djinnfic asked for <i>shoreleave, unintentional hookup on the part of these three (possibly two of them had it planned already), author's discretion if it's a one-time thing or if it's an arrangement that might endure. Want all partners to be desired and full players in this...Reboot fic rather than TOS fic.</i></p><p>I took the prompt to mean sex. Actually, I didn't think about it very much, the sex just happened and then I went back afterwards and wondered if I could be any more shallow. Oops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

"You don't know for certain she's going to leave," Jim protested mildly as he leaned back on his couch to take two glasses off the shelf.

"I know," McCoy grunted as he pulled the definitely-for-medicinal-purposes-only bottle out of his medical bag. "She never wanted to be here. Probably only assigned because Starfleet felt it necessary to staff your ship entirely with child geniuses."

"Well, it's me." Jim grinned unrepentantly. "If they were going to make me the youngest captain ever, they couldn't exactly give me a ship full of grizzled old men. Present company excepted."

"Just drink, damn it."

Jim's grin widened. "Though you're right, it probably is a Starfleet experiment. Hmm."

McCoy knocked back a shot and poured them both another. "I'm sorry, were we talking about me?"

"How was your day, dear?" Jim raised an eyebrow, watching McCoy over the rim of his glass as he drank.

"Well, I'm about to lose a damn good head nurse and my captain is mocking me."

"When she came on board," said Jim, "you said she was too serious. Too focused on her work. No sense of humour. Sound like anyone else I know?"

"She's competent, Jim. Sickbay runs like a well-oiled machine, and it's always 'Yes, Doctor,' and 'Right away, Doctor'..."

"Bones, you have a gift." Jim waggled his empty glass and McCoy obliged by pouring for them both again. "Even when you're complimenting, you sound like you're complaining."

"Don't tell me you wouldn't be upset if Rand decided to take a transfer."

Jim waved the insinuation away. "Rand is an extremely pretty yeoman, but you know it's not like that."

"I'm not sleeping with Chapel!"

"Clearly." Kirk held up a hand to forestall McCoy's next comment. "Fine. Is it the Korby thing? That was months ago."

McCoy shrugged, slumping back in his chair and putting his feet up on the table between them. "I don't know. Maybe."

"She's not pining," Jim said decisively. "I know women, and the second we got into that android lair and saw that hot 'research assistant' standing next to Korby, it was pretty clear any lingering feelings Chapel might have had died a quick death."

"And then she phasered him," McCoy added.

"That was another clue." Kirk drained his glass. "But she doesn't seem like she's wracked with guilt."

"Whatever it is, she's not happy."

"Her biochemistry degree? She never finished it, right?"

"How the hell did you remember that?"

"She's a beautiful woman, Bones. I remember everything about beautiful women."

"It's not that. Thanks to your little escapade with the alien flora of Dosuto 7, she's got enough raw data to finish three doctoral theses. Spock's advising her."

"Well," said Jim, stretching back on the couch and putting his feet up too. "It sounds like a mystery to me. But you're sure she's going to ask for a transfer?"

"She's unhappy, she's irritable, impatient--" McCoy shook his head and took another drink.

"Reminds me of no one at all," Jim said.

"I don't know why I even bother." McCoy poured for them both again. "Just drink, damn it." He glanced up. "And stop smirking."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

  
The twin suns of Perentree Prime shone down on Christine Chapel as she stepped off the transport shuttle. She was ready again. The feeling surged through her like a drug, humming in her veins and glowing on her skin.  
  
Sunlight bounced off the pink snow on the mountain ridges in front of her and she slung her luggage bag over her shoulder, heading away from the landing pad as the next shuttle landed.  
  
These four days of shore leave were the last luxury she was allowing herself. She had a decision to make, one she'd been putting off for a while, and after her leave, she was going to buckle down and make a choice.  
  
Starfleet would let her go, she knew. They always needed trained medics and she could take her research with her anywhere. Or she could stay, on a ship headed out on a long-term mission, where most of the few hundred crew were completely ineligible for what she was looking for, and the ones who were eligible...well, they were ineligible for different reasons.  
  
Stop it, she told herself as she spotted the cable car that would take her up into the Perentree mountain peaks. The next four days would be full of long, rambling hikes through the Perentreean forests. A Fridisian spa bath tub with all the extra jets and bubbles. A fully functional replicator programmed to provide whatever food and drink she desired, and beautiful views to contemplate as the suns tracked over the horizon.  
  
Alone.  
  
Damn it, she was going to shut off her brain if it killed her.  
  
"Christine!"  
  
The sound of her name brought her up short and she turned to see Jim Kirk jogging towards her. Speaking of highly eligible ineligible prospects... "Captain?"  
  
He grinned. "We're off duty, Lieutenant. Call me Jim."  
  
She couldn't help but grin back; his charm was infectious. "Are you taking leave up here too? It's supposed to be beautiful."  
  
"We've heard," the Captain--Jim--said. "Sounds like exactly what the doctor ordered. Speaking of which..." He turned, and sure enough, there was Leonard McCoy, tall, dark, and grumpy, another eligible ineligible, striding up to where they were standing.  
  
"Doctor." She nodded, willing herself not to notice how good the man looked out of uniform.  
  
"Chapel." He nodded back.  
  
"People!" Jim Kirk protested, slinging an arm around each of them. "We're off duty! We're about to ride a cable car that hasn't upgraded its technology in the last five hundred years! Lighten up!"  
  
"I need a drink," said McCoy, and Christine couldn't help a little snicker.  
  
"There we go," said Jim, hustling them into the cable car station. "We're getting along already. Now, Christine." He squeezed her shoulders a bit with the arm that was still around her. "Don't think of the next hour or so as being trapped in a confined space with your boss and your boss's boss. Think of it as having the exclusive attention of two handsome, intelligent, charming men."  
  
"Jesus, Jim," said McCoy.  
  
"Well, one of us is charming," Kirk amended. "And McCoy will carry your bag."  
  
"No, it's fine--" But McCoy was already taking it off her shoulder.  
  
"Allow me," he said, his drawl a charm of its own.  
  
Christine took a quick look at both of them. There was something going on here she couldn't put her finger on, but of course, Jim Kirk was all boyish charm all the time, and McCoy seemed perennially annoyed with him, and maybe she was just being oversensitive.  
  
Mentally shaking herself, she took refuge in small talk. "So you both took cabins up here for the next few days?"  
  
Jim opened the cable car door for her and handed her inside. "Bones did. I'm just staying long enough to appreciate the view, then I'm heading to the southern continent to climb something."  
  
The Perentreean cliff faces on the southern continent were legendary. "Have fun," said Christine. "Try not to kill yourself."  
  
Jim laughed as he settled on the seat beside her, forcing McCoy to take the seat on her other side. "That's exactly what Bones said."  
  
"Not that you listen to me," McCoy said evenly.  
  
The cable car started up the side of the mountain, putting a halt to the conversation while a computer-generated voice told them not to do anything stupid like hang out of the car during the forty-five minute climb to the summit.  
  
Christine peered out the viewer in front of her, which showed the face of the mountain as the car climbed steadily up.  
  
After a minute or two, just as they were getting some good altitude, Jim said, "We blocked you in!"  
  
"Sorry?" She frowned.  
  
"You don't have a window seat."  
  
That much was true. "It's okay," she said.  
  
"No, no." Leaning in with a swift motion, he put his hands on her waist and tossed her into McCoy's lap.  
  
McCoy just shook his head as Jim slid over to the empty space she'd occupied a few seconds before, now truly blocking her in.  
  
"I'm sorry," said Jim. "I didn't think; I just wanted us both to sit next to the beautiful woman. Bones doesn't mind, do you?"  
  
In fact, McCoy had already put his hands on her hips and readjusted her to sit more comfortably on his lap. "It's fine," he said, still sounding irritated, though clearly at Jim, not her.  
  
"Thanks," she managed to say in a dry voice, looking out the window while her mind raced. This couldn't possibly mean what she was thinking.  
  
And then Jim leaned over and put his face next to hers, peering out the window too. "Amazing," he said as the pink dappled chasms fell away beneath them.  
  
Oh hell, he absolutely couldn't mean that. She reminded herself that she hadn't truly flirted since she was a kid, before she met Roger, and was probably out of practice and misreading the signs. Not that any of the fumbling teenagers she'd been with would ever have suggested what Kirk seemed to be.  
  
Neither would Roger. At least, she didn't think so.  
  
McCoy must have felt her tense up, because he leaned back away from her and said, "You okay?"  
  
"Fine," she said, trying to soften her smile, resolving not to get sucked into the past again. "It's just high up."  
  
"Don't remind me," he said dourly, and she elbowed him gently.  
  
"You're in the mountains," she teased.  
  
"And once we're back on solid ground, I won't mind the altitude," he retorted.  
  
She laughed a little, then felt Jim's arm snake around her waist. Tamping down her surprise as much as she could, she turned back to the view and pressed her forehead against the window. "Amazing," she echoed. "Doctor, look."  
  
Reluctantly, McCoy glanced out, then squeezed his eyes shut. "For a three-kilometre drop ending in certain death, it's very pretty."  
  
What the hell, she thought, and draped an arm around his shoulders. Might as well see where this leads. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the corner of Jim Kirk's mouth turn up as he looked out the window. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Having a warm armful of beautiful nurse in his lap was, empirically speaking, a fantastic way to spend a morning.

Watching Jim angling for an afternoon the likes of which they hadn't indulged in since the Academy, and then never sober, was much less comfortable.

Still, Jim seemed to have chosen well. After her initial shock, Chapel had made herself very comfortable--almost too comfortable--in his lap, and hadn't seemed to mind the fact that both men were practically nuzzling her for the entire ride to the summit.

As they climbed out of the cable car, McCoy made sure to scoop both his and Chapel's bags, and waved her away when she tried to take hers back. "A gentleman would see you to your door," he said, mustering what he hoped was a gallant smile.

Her smile back was a little uncertain but still welcoming, and Jim, damn him, was grinning ear to ear.

Checking in at the resort's front desk took no time at all, and they caught the automated shuttle to Chapel's cabin first.

He hung back as Jim handed her out of the shuttle, as much to appreciate her from behind as anything else. As he stepped out himself, he saw what looked like an Alpen chalet, shadowed beneath the boughs of giant trees.

"You don't mind if we take a look at your view, do you?" Jim asked, a picture of innocence.

"Come right on in." Chapel smiled, apparently distracted by the polished wood that covered the chalet, running her fingers over its smooth surface. "This is beautiful."

"Can't wait to see inside," Jim agreed.

They stepped in together and McCoy followed, barely noticing the shuttle zipping away behind him.

It was a beautiful place, he had to agree. The interior was all polished wood too--darker tones for the floor, lighter ones for the walls and fixtures, dark again for the cathedral-style ceiling.

He heard her exclaim softly as she ran to the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the back wall. It was as if the mountain just fell away a few metres from the window, and mountain peaks shrouded in mist stretched as far as the eye could see.

"Wow," said Jim, and McCoy didn't feel the need to be any more articulate.  
After a moment, though, Jim, being unable to stand still, darted first one way, then the other, throwing open the doors on either side of the main room.

The bedroom to the left boasted a comfortably large platform bed piled with pillows. To the right was the bathroom, aptly named in that the majority of the room was occupied by a tub that could accommodate the entire bridge crew.

"I may be cancelling my rock climbing session," Jim murmured in McCoy's ear as he went past, ducking easily when McCoy tried to smack him.

"I'll just put your bag down in there." McCoy motioned towards the bedroom and Chapel turned away from the view just long enough to absently nod her thanks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jim sidling up to her--subtle, friendly, but definitely putting himself near her personal space, and he knew from experience that he was supposed to do the same from her other side, in what neither he nor Jim had ever been so crass to call a pincer movement.

Chapel hadn't realized yet what Jim was doing. She gazed out the window, her fingers pressed against the glass like a little girl, her eyes wide with wonder, drinking in the sight of alien mountains on an alien planet.

Watching her there, he found his list of reasons for not wanting to lose her get longer. She was important. Too important.  
And she deserved better than the same stupid moves he and Jim had been using since the Academy.

Taking a step back, he shook his head slightly at Jim and said, "We'll leave you to get settled in. Jim?"

Jim's expression didn't change, though his eyes widened a little in a you're-a-dumbass kind of way. "He's right," he agreed. "This is your shore leave."

Chapel turned, blinking in what looked like confusion at their sudden departure. "Oh, that's okay--"

Jim turned on the charm again as they headed for the door. "And thanks for helping Bones with his little 'problem' in the cable car."

She choked out a surprised laugh before managing to straighten her face. "Thanks for the company," she said, so sweetly that it almost made McCoy reconsider punching Jim the second they left.

Almost. Once they were safely in the shuttle, he punched Jim's arm anyway.

"Ow!" Jim pulled out his pout. "And also, you're the idiot. We were all on the same page back there! She would absolutely have gone with it."

"This isn't like picking up a horny cadet at an Academy bar, Jim. She's..." He trailed off, not knowing how to say it without sounding lovesick.

Jim waited a second just to make sure McCoy wasn't going to come up with something, then softened his tone. "Yes, you have it bad. She probably knows now too. And she's not some random cadet--if she was, I wouldn't be here. I am captain of a starship now, you know."

"You're saying you thought this through," McCoy said dryly.

"You continue to underestimate me, Bones." Kirk shook his head and clapped him on the back like a disappointed father. "When will you learn?"

McCoy slumped back on the seat. "Damn it."

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

So, that was...weird, thought Christine. Maybe I read the signs wrong. Maybe it was all in my head.

Still, it was a good distraction from the tediousness of her own thoughts. Also, the two of them together? That was the kind of distraction she deserved.

Crossing to the kitchen, she pulled a bottle of wine out of the icebox and poured herself a glass, then retreated to the giant window and considered the view a while longer. She should probably go out, she told herself. Hike an easy trail for a few hours, come back as the suns go down, then indulge in a calorie-filled meal, take a long bath--her eyes fell to the right, where the bathtub lay waiting through the open door--and then climb into her big bed--her eyes turned to the left, where the pillow-piled platform promised sleep on a cloud.

But maybe, she thought, maybe just before that, I should go see what McCoy's view looks like. Draining her glass, she set it down and headed for the bedroom to change for a hike. Always best to have an excuse to both come and go.

The shuttle dropped her in front of McCoy's chalet a bare half-hour after they'd left her. It was bigger than hers, with a second story of windows visible from the outside, which she supposed made sense as there were two people staying there.

"Hi," she said, when McCoy opened the door. "I was just heading out for a hike, but was hoping I could see what your view looked like."

McCoy seemed speechless for a second, just looking at her, but the captain's voice sounded from inside. "A hike? Sounds great."

It seemed as though McCoy gave himself a mental shake. "Sorry. Absolutely, come on in. It's not as spectacular as yours, but we can see the top of the waterfall--"

"I was going to go down there this afternoon." Christine slipped past him and headed to the back wall made of floor-to-ceiling windows, just like hers. Glancing around, she realized that the layout was exactly the same as hers--bed to the left, bath to the right--everything was just bigger.

Which meant that McCoy and Kirk must be sharing the bed, unless one of them was taking the couch. Maybe she'd been entirely wrong about the cable car.

Turning to the window, she caught her breath again. The slope of one peak dominated the view, and a wide stream coursed down it, frothing as it wended around rocky outcrops.

Jim was suddenly standing beside her. "It's beautiful." He turned to her. "You don't mind some company, do you?"

It took her half a second to stop staring at the blue of his eyes. "No, that would be--" She paused for a moment, searching for the right word. "--fun."

Jim grinned. His eyes never leaving hers, he yelled, "Bones, replicate us some sandwiches, will you?"

"I'm a doctor, damn it, not your lackey."

Jim stepped away. "You're coming too, sweetheart."

Christine choked back another laugh.

"You're damn right I'm coming," McCoy grumbled as he headed for the kitchen. "You'll find some way to kill yourself without me."

"It's like having a mother hen of my very own," Jim murmured, and Christine giggled. "Now," he said. "Where are those hiking packs we saw?"

Christine already had hers on. The resort provided small backpacks for guests to take with them while they roamed through the mountains, compact survival kits with water, food, and communicators.

All three of them made room in their packs for the sandwiches McCoy ordered, and then Jim insisted on adding a bottle of something cold and fizzy, as well as a red-and-white checked blanket. "It's traditional," he said.

Christine couldn't disagree, and even McCoy seemed less irritated by the time they were ready to set out.

The path was fairly easy going, though it was downhill. They walked briskly, but Christine was relieved to note that neither of her companions was interested in setting a breakneck pace. Jim led the way, and McCoy brought up the rear, and occasionally one or the other of them would stop and point something out: an interesting flowered vine, a Perentreean sparrow, a small orange-and-blue forest crab.

The first time Jim stopped to show her something, she nearly ran into him and he put a hand out to steady her. The second time it was an arm around her shoulder. The third time it was an arm around her waist, drawing her close as he pointed out the mist on a spiderweb that spanned five separate trees.

Not that she was deliberately keeping track, but after the spiderweb McCoy started to point things out too, catching her hand, tugging so that she stopped walking, then snaking an arm around her waist while pointing in the direction of, for example, the little mammal scurrying away from them.

After that happened once or twice, Jim began to backtrack whenever McCoy stopped her, casually sliding an arm around her waist too as he inspected whatever McCoy had found.

They were both very subtle about it--one or the other would only stop once every twenty minutes or so, but after a couple of hours of hiking, Christine was certain of two things. One, that she hadn't missed anything of note on the path, and two, that the signs she'd been picking up in the cable car had definitely not been all in her head.

The next time Jim pulled her in to see a tiny bird's nest with red eggs the size of peas inside, she couldn't help but smile. Jim grinned back, innocent as the sun.

She was starting to learn that grin, but whatever it meant, she decided to just relax into it and see where the afternoon took them.

It took them to the base of the waterfall she'd seen out of McCoy's window, and it was worth every second of the three-hour hike to see it. She gasped as the path widened out into a clearing, revealing the crash and foam of white water over black rocks, spreading out in a deep blue pool.

The three of them stood at the river's edge in silence for a few moments, just appreciating the sight of it, until Jim crouched down to stick his hand in the water.

He hissed. "It's freezing!"

"No swimming for us," McCoy agreed, not that Christine could picture the irascible doctor she knew tugging off his clothes and jumping in the water anyway.

"Picnic instead?" she suggested, and was immediately stripped of her pack by the other two, who laid out the blanket and food so quickly it was as if they'd been nearly starved and dying for her to mention it.

Hungry young men, she thought, smiling fondly. Light years from home, millennia from our evolutionary roots, and yet some things never changed.

She joined them on the blanket, and what had seemed like a truly excessive number of sandwiches when they'd packed them were steadily demolished by the two prime specimens of human male sitting with her. Not that she didn't have her fair share--all that hiking worked up an appetite.

They passed around the bottle that Jim had insisted on bringing--he'd forgotten the glasses--and though she didn't think it was alcohol, she nevertheless felt relaxation steal over her, probably from the combination of good food, sweet drink, and gentle exercise.

As the other two packed up the last of the lunch and stored it back in their packs, she let herself flop back on the blanket, looking up at the sky. The suns had drifted behind clouds, but it was still a bright, beautiful afternoon.

Jim slid down beside her, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his hand so that he could look down at her. She felt a mirroring thump of McCoy landing on her other side.

"Tired?" Jim asked, too casually.

An image formed in her mind, almost unbidden. Here, on the red-and-white checked blanket. Both of them taking turns on her, one after another, over and over--

Maybe her eyes darkened, or maybe Jim could read her mind, because the corners of his mouth began to turn up.

And then it started to rain.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

McCoy groaned as the first drops hit his skin.

"You've got to be kidding." Even Jim sounded annoyed.

All three of their backpacks started beeping, the small communicators provided by the resort telling them that their current location was on a floodplain.

"It's just a little rain." He tried not to make it sound like a whine.

"Come on," Chapel said, with some of the steel in her voice that made her an excellent head nurse. "For all we know, this waterfall is already building up to a tidal wave."

Jim was already packing away the blanket. "Besides, the faster we get to the evac site, the faster we get home."

That was logic McCoy couldn't argue with. But still--so close, damn it. She'd come back, spent the afternoon with them, leaned into his touch...Jim had been right all along. Damn changeable alien weather.

Their training took over then, the backpack communicators pointing them along a different upward route towards higher ground. Five minutes after they started, the rain was pouring down like a tap, drenching them to the skin.

Another forty minutes of truly miserable and sometimes treacherous terrain went by before they finally found the clearing on the plateau where the evacuation site was supposed to be. No craft were in sight, but a bright orange light flashed like a beacon in the storm. All three of them were out of breath as they hurried over.

Then they saw what the orange light was attached to. A tiny building, hardly bigger than a sonic shower stall, which would definitely not fit all three of them. Jim palmed the door and laughed as he saw what was inside.

A short-range site-to-site transporter. "Hell, no," said McCoy. "I don't trust the damn Starfleet ones; you think I trust a planetful of purple tripeds with five-hundred-year-old cable cars?"

Jim laughed, but Chapel had apparently run out of patience. "You can stay here then," she said, slipping past him and into the booth. The computer asked for her backpack communicator and she plugged it into the slot provided. "It recognizes me! It has my cabin number and every--"

The rest of her words were drowned out by the sound of the transporter activating, whisking her away.

"Well?" said Jim as the noise and shimmer died away. "Are you going to chase her, or what?"

"Damn it." He hesitated for a few seconds, but as usual, there was no other choice. Pushing past his friend and into the booth, he plugged in his communicator the way Chapel had, and was hardly reassured when the computer displayed his name. "If this scrambles my electrons into next week, I'm--"

The transporter put him in the entryway of his chalet. "--blaming you." He palmed the overhead light and stepped forward. "Chapel?"

No answer.

"Christine?" Jim materialized behind him. "Where is she?"

McCoy caught the viewscreen blinking out of the corner of his eye and saw his head nurse standing in her own entryway, waving. "Hi," she said sheepishly. "They beamed me back to my place automatically." Her eyes focused on the padd beside her viewscreen. "I think the shuttles have stopped running until after the storm." She looked down at herself and visibly shuddered. "Okay. I'm going to get out of these wet clothes and take a hot bath. Sorry the afternoon got cut short."

The viewscreen went dark again.

"Damn it."

Jim's choice of words was even less polite.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bath 'bot!

Clearly fate was pushing her in a different direction, Christine told herself as she peeled off her sopping wet clothes. It was absolutely not meant to be.

The little bath 'bot buzzed over and handed her a warmed towel to dry off with, and she punched the commands on its padd to fill the tub. Behind her, the 'bot scooped up her wet clothes, then stuck out a little attachment to vacuum up all the mud she'd tracked in, and she couldn't help but laugh. This was twenty-third century luxury at its finest.

Naked, but much drier and happier than she had been twenty minutes ago, she padded over to the icebox and pulled out the bottle of white wi—no, wait, she was on holiday. Champagne.

The bath was nearly full of steaming bubbles and she set her glass down carefully beside it. Glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows again, she could only see rain and grey mist. It was as if she were the only one on the planet.

Well, things could be worse, she told herself, pointing a toe into the water. Perfect. She took her time stepping into the tub, letting its warmth wrap around her slowly as she sunk in up to her neck. Behind her the bath 'bot beeped again, offering its services, and she let it wash her hair with gentle, delicate touches.

It would be too easy to get used to this. When the 'bot suggested a light shoulder rub, Christine didn't hesitate. Clearly it had been programmed for human anatomy, because it seemed to be able to seek out all the little knots and twists she'd barely paid attention to over the past months.

A noise in the main room made her open her eyes, but before she could register what it was, a familiar voice cut through her relaxation.

"Chapel?"

"Doctor?" Footsteps approached and she glanced down quickly, making sure that the bubbles were covering her completely.

"You're trusting an alien machine with your trapezius muscles? Damn fool woman."

As she turned to look, McCoy came right into the bathroom without invitation and shooed the 'bot away. "Could do more damage than you know."

"I am a nurse," she pointed out dryly. Seeing Jim Kirk hanging back in the doorway, she waved him in. "He's already in here; no reason you can't be."

Jim looked entirely too pleased with himself, but still matched her dry tone. "It was his sweet-talking manners that turned my head too, the day we first met."

She started to laugh, but then McCoy crouched down behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, and oh, whatever he was doing felt about a billion times better than a machine. Stifling a groan of pleasure—no reason to let him know how good it felt—she focused on Jim. "So, how did you sweet-talk your way over here?"

"Wasn't me," Jim protested, dropping down to sit on the rim of the tub beside her. Somehow he'd already shucked off his shoes and he stuck his bare feet in the water, his heel giving her arm a friendly nudge. "Bones went all, 'I'm her doctor, damn it, and she could catch her death of cold.' Browbeat the resort into transporting us over."

Pulling away from McCoy, she craned her neck to look up at him. "So now the Perentreeans think that human females get sick if they get wet?"

"Just you," McCoy said, making himself comfortable on the floor on her other side, propping his head up on his arm. "I may have hinted you were recovering from Argonian measles."

"There's no such thing," she said evenly.

"There could be." When he smiled at her, he looked as young and carefree as Jim.

She shook her head with mock disapproval. "Giving an alien species misinformation? And you a Starfleet doctor."

He leaned in, and something inside her flipped over. "Are you arguing with my results, Nurse?"

His voice had darkened to a low rumble, and she lost her train of thought for a moment. "The ends don't justify the means, Doctor, as you very well know," she said, managing somehow to stay stern.

"Well, I made the call, and I'm satisfied with the outcome." Now his face was bare inches from hers and her lips parted in anticipation. "Your job, Nurse, is to do what I say."

"You know I won't do that."

"You'd disobey a direct order?" His fingers ghosted along her cheek and she gasped softly.

"I have before."

He paused, his thumb brushing the line of her jaw. "Did I ever punish you for that?"

"You never had the nerve," she replied.

"Chapel," he said, shaking his head in disapproval. "Those are fighting words."

"Take your best shot," she breathed.

Sighing, as though his fingers weren't drifting down to trace her collarbone with an exquisitely gentle touch, he said, "When will you learn? I know things." His fingers dipped below water level, and now she did stop breathing as they caressed the top of her breast. "I am, in fact, intimately acquainted," he found one of her little pebbled nipples and rubbed it ever so lightly, "with exactly what you need."

She couldn't stop a little whimper of pleasure.

And then his mouth crashed into hers, his hand leaving the water to tangle in her hair and drag her closer, and she was doing the same, her wet fingers wrapping around the base of his neck, trying to pull him near.

A while later—though it was probably only a few seconds, she heard from behind her, "You know, that whole Doctor-Nurse thing is kind of cute, but…"

Without breaking the kiss, she reached behind her, grabbed Jim's pant leg, and hauled. McCoy must have given him a push too, because there was a loud splash and a yell. Waves lipped over the rim of the tub between her and McCoy.

They parted long enough to look over and see Jim, rising out of the bubbles, still fully clothed and now completely soaked. "Nice," he said, wiping foam out of his eyes. "That was my last set of dry clothes."

He pulled off his shirt, which was another highlight of the afternoon, as far as Christine was concerned. And then he grinned down at her, and parts of her she never thought could liquefy turned to molten gold.

"Yes, he's good-looking," grumbled McCoy. "Get back here."

She turned to him and said, "Yes, Doctor," and he grinned too.

"Good girl," he said, and captured her mouth with his once more.

There was another thwap of wet clothing behind her—probably Jim getting rid of his trousers, because he'd never been shy—and the beeping of the bath 'bot as it scurried around, collecting clothes and vacuuming up the water on the floor, but she didn't care, winding her arms around McCoy's neck. Damn, he could kiss.

She could do that with him for hours. And was fully prepared to—

Jumping in shock, she squeaked her pleasure directly into McCoy's mouth, and he raised his head to see what was happening to her.

Jim's face was half underwater, his lips suckling gently at her breast.

She groaned, her hand reaching out to clamp Jim's head, arching into him, and he lifted his mouth long enough to say, "Go ahead with what you were doing. I can hold my breath for a while."

Then he dipped his mouth underwater once more and she squeaked again as he latched on.

Not to be outdone, McCoy's hand found her other breast, played with the nipple, while he pulled her in for more kissing.

She couldn't endure it for more than a minute or two—they were both too good. "Okay," she said, breathing hard as she pushed them both away. "One of you has to get inside me now. I don't care who, but sometime in—" she sucked in another breath, "—the next ten seconds would be good."

Jim and McCoy exchanged glances.

"Go ahead, Jim, I'm not done kissing her yet."

"Just get your ass in the tub." Jim reached for her, pulling her deeper into the water, sitting down on one of the lower seats and tugging her so she was astride him. "Ten seconds?"

"Now would be better," she breathed, choking back a moan as she felt his fingers between her legs, finding her sex and parting it.

Jim didn't start slow. Once he'd positioned her, he pulled her down firmly, entering her in a long, smooth stroke that seated him completely inside. She couldn't stifle a small cry.

"You're tight," he grated out.

"It's been a while," she gasped, and then he was moving, and she moved on him, and his lips found her breast again, and McCoy, who was still not in the damn tub, came up behind Jim and pulled her upright so that he could lean over and kiss her again.

She grabbed onto McCoy's shoulders, using them for leverage as Jim shoved up hard inside her, trusting both of them to keep her from falling.

Her climax she moaned directly into McCoy's mouth.

As soon as she did, though, he pulled away. "Right, Jim," he said. "Get her out of the damn tub. I want her once on dry land, first."

"Always a traditionalist," said Jim, lifting her easily off him, not looking particularly annoyed that his own climax was being delayed. "Here she is."

"Wait a second," she said, even as Jim scooped her up in his arms and deposited her on the floor beside the tub. "I wasn't done with you."

Jim grinned. "And I'm not done with you either."

"And the tile is cold," she directed at McCoy, though it was difficult to sound stern when he was looming over her, stripping off his shirt.

"You're going to forget all about that in a second," he said, hooking his thumbs in his waistband and shucking off his pants in one smooth movement.

Her breath caught in her throat. Jim had felt big and hard inside her, but she hadn't actually seen him. McCoy…he was definitely big, and definitely hard, and her jaw dropped.

He didn't seem to notice, dropping down on top of her, parting her legs with his, and snaking a hand under her hips to position her.

"No foreplay?" she asked, though she thought she might pass out if he didn't do something soon.

"You had a whole damn afternoon of foreplay," he told her, then looked up at Jim, who was still standing in the tub. "You said she's tight?"

"A little."

"Okay, sweetheart." He looked down at her. "I'll start slow."

"Not too slow!" She must have sounded a little panicked, because he grinned.

And then he was nudging inside her, stretching her, slowly going deep, but when she lifted her legs to wrap around his hips, he pushed them down to the floor again. "Be patient," he said. "I'll get there."

"Get there now, Doctor."

"So bossy," he said. "Even when you're being fucked."

Her eyes widened, but she managed to point out, "I'm not being fucked yet."

"Fine." He looked up at Jim. "This is what I get for being a gentleman."

"And the damn tile is still cold," she told him.

Without warning, he surged into her in one long, swift stroke. She choked out a little cry. He was big. In a good way, but…big.

"Still thinking about the tile?" he teased.

"A little," she managed, trying to let her body relax around him.

He pulled out almost completely and then drove back in. She cried out again.

"Damn it," he ground out. "Jim, a little help here?"

Between Jim's mouth on her breasts and McCoy's fingers, she eased up enough for McCoy to start moving, and once he started moving, well…then everything was fine. Better than fine.

Every thrust still made her whimper, at least partly in frustration. He'd pinned her hips and wouldn't let her move, wouldn't let her legs tangle with his or wrap around his waist. She tried pulling at his shoulders, but they were like rock and wouldn't give. All she could do was lay there.

McCoy wasn't even watching her face, now; he was looking down at their bodies, seeing himself push inside her over and over. It seemed like minutes before he grunted out, "Damn, that was good," over the sound of her cries.

And then, suddenly, he let go of her hips, let her angle up into his thrusts the way she wanted to, and their bodies began to slide across the tile. She was past caring, because he suddenly seemed concerned with finesse and was angling right *there*, right where she needed it, and then—

Her head slipped over the rim of the tub.

Jim was there to catch it, and he looked down at her and grinned. "How's it going?"

All she could do was moan as McCoy changed his angle again and finally lifted one of her legs over his hips, giving her some leverage which she immediately used to make him moan too.

Jim rose up to kneel on the bench just inside the tub, so that his erection was level with her head. "Feel like taking us both on?"

She was past words, but she stretched out a hand and grabbed his ass.

As he was already supporting her head, it was easy for him to line himself up against her lips. She took him in as far as she could, and heard his satisfied sigh. Between his hands on her head and hers on his ass, they set a decent pace for him.

McCoy shifted to a kneeling position, wrapping both her legs around him, and continued to fuck her. Her torso arched back towards Jim, her nipples, still beaded with water, pointing straight up, and McCoy put his mouth and hands to good use.

She climaxed a few moments later, clenching hard around McCoy's cock, her cries muffled by Jim's, and both men paused to savour it.

As her eyes fluttered open, she saw them exchange glances.

"What do you think?" said McCoy.

"I could do this a while longer," said Jim.

McCoy nodded. "Same here."

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

"What do you think?" said McCoy.

"I could do this a while longer," said Jim.

McCoy nodded. "Same here."

Bastards, she would have said if her mouth wasn't full. But then McCoy pulled out of her and drove hard back inside, and Jim nudged deeper towards the back of her throat, and there was a mouth on one breast and a hand on the other and fingers probing for her clit and she climaxed again within seconds.

And again, a few minutes later.

"How are we doing?" Jim asked.

"Maybe time to give her a bit of a rest," McCoy conceded.

She didn't need a damn rest, and she let her teeth scrape over Jim's cock and clenched herself around McCoy's to let them know.

Both men groaned.

"All right, back in the tub with you, missy," said McCoy, easing himself out of her.

Jim had pulled out of her mouth, and was sliding his arm under her shoulders to lift her even as she spat out, "Missy? Who do you think—"

Oh. She broke off in a groan of pure pleasure. The water was still the perfect temperature, flooding her with warmth; she hadn't realized how chilled she'd gotten on the tile. Jim just smiled as he lay her back on the wide bench that ran down the middle of the tub, her head supported above the water while the rest of her reclined below.

McCoy slid into the tub with a satisfied noise, coming up on her other side and leaning in for a kiss. Yes, he still kissed just as well as she'd remembered.

She realized she hadn't kissed Jim yet, and tugged him down to her, turning away from McCoy. Jim's mouth was a strange mixture of playful and sincere that she didn't understand but was more than willing to explore.

Not to be outdone, apparently, McCoy decided to demonstrate how long he could hold his breath, too.

She turned more of her attention to Jim, sliding the fingers of one hand into his hair and finding his cock underwater with the other. She gripped it firmly, sliding back and forth over it, her thumb seeking the sensitive part under the head. He made a noise of pleasure that was satisfying to hear.

"Damn," he said, lifting his head. "No wonder Bones wouldn't stop kissing you."

Pulling him down again, she kissed him even as she arched into McCoy's touch. Far from the straightforward fucking a few minutes ago, McCoy's hands and mouth were gentle now, mapping their way slowly over her skin, making her tingle and burn.

Her next climax rolled over her unexpectedly, crashing in long, deep waves.

"Okay," she said when she finally caught her breath. "I'm having a great time, but the two of you really should come at some point."

Jim grinned down at her. "Only if you're sure."

"You heard the lady." McCoy gave a little jerk of his head, which was apparently some kind of sign.

Suddenly, she found herself on her stomach, her head resting on her folded arms on the elevated part of the bench.

"You okay?" McCoy asked, nuzzling her cheek while behind her, Jim was lifting her knees onto the bench, raising her ass.

She just let them do whatever they wanted—so far it had worked out really well for her.

And then two of Jim's fingers slid easily into her sex, and she gasped.

"Now," said McCoy. "I'm going to kiss you until he comes."

Nodding, her lips already parting in anticipation, she agreed. "Okay."

Jim's fingers retreated and she felt something much larger nudge her opening. She pushed back against it and there he was, big and hard and feeling very different from this angle. His first thrust made her yelp, and McCoy chuckled as he took her lips and swallowed the second yelp and then a few hundred more after that.

Jim took his time with her, building slowly, enjoying the grip of her inner muscles each time she came, thrusting through them and increasing his pace bit by bit. McCoy's mouth was her only constant, and she was clinging to him, nearly sobbing with pleasure, by the time Jim began to push hard and fast enough to put them both over the edge. She came with a ragged cry and felt Jim finish himself off inside her, driving through her spasms one more time.

When they finally fell silent and the water began to still, he eased out of her and McCoy's gentle brushes of lips against lips ceased. "I think you tired her out, Jim," he said in a low voice.

"She certainly tired me out," he answered, coming up on her other side.

Lifting her head, she turned to look at him. "That was amazing," she agreed, still a little groggy, "But yes, I think you did."

Jim leaned in and kissed her, so different from McCoy and yet still so addictive, and she let their tongues play together lazily.

She didn't notice, then, until McCoy put his hands on her ass, exactly what was happening.

"Doctor, no," she said, breaking the kiss and craning her neck to look back at him. "Just give me a couple of minutes—"

"Did she just call me 'Doctor', Jim?"

Jim laughed. "I think she did."

"Well, then, 'Nurse', I think we covered this already."

She started to twist away, but his hands gripped her hips and held them steady. "I didn't mean—"

"No, no." His fingers began to paint long, wide strokes over her mons and labia, and already she was feeling less tired, damn him. "I'm the doctor, which means you have to do what I say. Right?"

With what his fingers were promising, she was inclined to change her mind. "Fine, 'Doctor,'" she said.

"So that's a yes?" He took his hands away.

"Yes," she ground out.

Jim chuckled. "I think your bedside manner needs work, Bones."

"How about this?" McCoy asked, his hands thankfully coming back to part her thighs. "Just hold still. You won't feel a thing."

Both she and Jim were laughing when McCoy drove up into her from behind and she choked out a little scream.

"You want me to do the same thing he did?" Jim asked, stroking her hair.

McCoy was inside her, but clearly waiting to take his second thrust. She wondered about that for half a second, and then saw Jim—really saw him—for maybe the first time.

This was why McCoy was waiting. Because he knew Kirk, and she didn't.

Yet. "No," she said, leaning in and kissing him thoroughly. "No, I'm fine. You do whatever you want."

He grinned. "Okay. Maybe one more kiss. But then I want to see your face."

They kissed as McCoy took his second stroke, eliciting another noise from her, and his third, and his fourth, and then Jim pulled away and watched her, held her gaze with his while she moaned at every thrust, her expression flowering as McCoy took her through the mix of pleasure and pain to higher and higher plateaus.

Occasionally Jim reached out, brushed her lip with his fingertips as McCoy's thrusts propelled her forward, as they made her cry out while she clutched the sides of the bench for purchase.

Once, he leaned in and kissed her furrowed brow. Cupped her cheek as she came. But kept watching, just watching.

It drained her, seeing Jim like that, taking everything she was showing him and giving almost nothing back, and as McCoy continued to push into her, she finally let her emotions overwhelm her and surrendered herself to both of them.

It was as if she were floating above her body, seeing the tableau of the three of them from a great height: her, splayed out, all pale, limp limbs; McCoy working himself inside her; Jim's tawny head a little way away.

From a distance, she saw McCoy's hands tighten on her hips, immobilizing her as he increased his pace, and then his hand rising to slap her ass. Saw her body convulse in another orgasm, even as it rocked back and forth under the power of his thrusts.

Saw Jim's hands grab her face, trapping her as she came again and again. McCoy was pounding into her now, and it was as if she couldn't stop coming.

McCoy shouted and smacked her ass again, and she yelled as she came back into herself, her mouth inches from Jim's as he watched her pain and pleasure etch itself on her face.

Her entire body was shuddering, coming, and coming again, and McCoy was crying out too, his last thrusts rapid and jerky as he finally, finally, finished himself off inside her.

Silence fell. It was almost a full minute before Jim leaned in to take one more kiss. McCoy slumped down, sprawling half on top of her on the wide bench, and groaned.

Trapped under one man, kissed thoroughly by the other, she felt no inclination to move.

Though there was one thing—

Christine lifted her head briefly. "Spank me again and you're a dead man, McCoy."

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

"Yes ma'am," McCoy said, trying not to feel embarrassed about that. She went back to kissing Jim again, so he supposed he was getting off lightly.

Damn, but she was a hot handful. Thank god for Jim; he wasn't sure he could have taken her on alone. And she seemed to like Jim a lot, though that was only to be expected, what with Jim's sexual repertoire being far more varied than his.

Of course, if McCoy had chased as many women as Jim, maybe his tastes would be a little more varied too. But he liked straight fucking and kissing, damn it. Fortunately, with a bit of coaxing, so did Christine.

"Bed," he said after another minute or two.

"Get out of me and get off me, then," said Christine.

"She's very—" Jim began.

"Forthright," McCoy agreed.

Christine raised her head again, but her eyes fluttered shut as McCoy began to ease out of her body.

"Sorry," he grunted, his fingers probing gently as his cock slipped away. Amazingly, he felt a little flutter of her muscles and she made a delightful little noise. If he hadn't been wholly and utterly exhausted, he'd have gone back inside her right then, trying to stoke her up again.

Jim kissed her once more, and then together he and McCoy turned her over and helped her sit up.

She winced, and he winced in sympathy. Thank god he'd brought his medical bag—she probably needed some attention after two anatomically large, randy men who hadn't had a woman in months.

The bath 'bot waved warm towels at them as they climbed out of the bath. They dried themselves off, and then he and Jim both helped Christine dry off, a bit more than was strictly necessary, and when a tired giggle escaped her, he swung her up in his arms and carried her out to the bedroom.

He laid her in the middle of the bed, a pretty picture of tangled blonde hair and pink skin still rosy from the heat of the bath, her little nipples the only thing about her that didn't speak of languid relaxation.

"So," said Jim from the foot of the bed. "Can we stay?"

She laughed again. "Get down here, both of you."

They lay down, one on either side of her, and Jim caught his eye. "Good idea," McCoy agreed.

"Wha—"

Any question she might have asked was stifled when he and Jim each took a nipple in their mouths.

She didn't speak again, just made those sighs and gasps and little high-pitched grunts of pleasure as he and Jim brought her to one more gentle climax with their lips and fingers.

Now she was nearly asleep, which was exactly where he wanted to be, and Jim too, though knowing Jim, the younger man could probably have gone for another round if pressed. Together, he and Jim grabbed the covers from the foot of the bed and pulled them up, their forearms brushing as they each laid a possessive arm around Christine's waist.

When he awoke a few hours later, Jim was watching him over Christine's head. She'd turned towards McCoy in her sleep, her forehead nestled against his collarbone, and Jim had taken the opportunity to spoon up behind her, bringing them all closer together.

"Did you sleep?" McCoy tried to speak quietly.

"A little," said Jim. "Just thinking."

"That never ends well."

Jim smiled, but not his usual open grin.

"You okay?" McCoy asked.

Suddenly Jim darted forward, and McCoy lifted his own head to meet him halfway, kissing him hard. It went on for a while before Jim broke away. "I think so," he said, flopping back on his side of the bed again.

McCoy nodded, the question asked and answered for both of them.

"Hey," said Christine muzzily, blinking sleep from her eyes. "How come I never knew about that?"

"Excuse me?" McCoy asked, glancing at Jim. "How is that your business?"

"How is it not?" she retorted, her chin lifting even as she arched against him.

"Does the whole, 'Fuck me in the next ten seconds' thing ring any bells?" Jim asked, spooning up behind her again.

Her eyes widened, probably at least partly because McCoy was getting hard against her stomach while Jim was almost certainly pressing his erection up against her ass.

"It's not like you gave us any time to ourselves," McCoy agreed, hitching her knee up over his hip and then sliding his hand down between her thighs, where his fingers met Jim's, already at work.

"I want to see you two," she said weakly.

McCoy sensed rather than saw Jim relax. "You will," he said.

"Absolutely," Jim agreed, brushing both her sex and McCoy's hand as he guided himself into position. "Eventually."

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Epilogue

Sunrise on Perentree was something to see, and they sprawled together in a drowsy pile to watch the snow begin to pinken.

Jim, of course, was the one to break the comfortable silence. "So, Christine," he said. "I understand you're thinking of leaving the Enterprise."

"What?" Christine sat up too quickly, ignoring the grunt of pain from McCoy. "How—"

"I'm the Captain," Jim said easily. "I know things. So…" He fixed her gaze with his. "Are you going to go?"

"Ah—"

"Bones, look! She's blushing!"

"Really?" McCoy propped up on one elbow. "So she is."

"You didn't blush once this whole time," Jim said. "Not even when we groped you in the cable car on the way up here—"

"Not even when we asked if we could both mmmph—" McCoy had trouble finishing, what with Christine's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Shut up, the two of you." She pushed them both away from her and flopped back down, eliciting another "Ow," from McCoy.

"So?" Jim leaned over her, his gaze piercing her. "Clearly you've been considering it. What are you going to do?"

"None of your business, Captain," she said evenly.

He kept his eyes on her for a few more seconds, then suddenly smirked. "That's hot. 'Captain.' I mean, that whole Doctor-Nurse thing you guys have going, I was just thinking it was kind of cute how you still haven't managed to call each other by your first names—"

McCoy and Christine studiously avoided looking at each other.

"—but now I see the appeal. Go ahead, call me 'Captain' again while we're all naked."

"Ass," said Christine, while McCoy said, "Idiot."

"Fine," said Jim. "Watch the sunrise. See if I care."

As they pulled him back down into the tangle of limbs, he grinned.

 

 

 

END

 


End file.
